I watch his face as my words register: First confusion, then understanding, then amusement. I can see that he’s trying not to let it out, but his wide shoulders are shaking and he’s working hard—unsuccessfully, I might add—to keep his mouth in a straight line. That stupid, kissable mouth—I’d like to smack it now. He clears his throat, straightening up. “You have a few options.”
I am seconds away from disaster. “Okay?”
“If it’s an emergency, you can do it the old fashioned way. In the trees.”
Kill me.
He continues, “Or we can load up and I’ll take you to the little gas station we passed down the road.”
I do the mental math: Put out the fire, clean up our mess, load the huge chair, drive away. I will never make it. I do not want to defile this beautiful dress, in front of this beautiful man, probably on the seat of his beautiful Bronco. Oh man, I do not want to do what I have to do.
I hang my head. “Old fashioned way.”
“Okay. Go do your thing and I’ll load this up.” I’m already on my feet looking for an adequately large shrub when he adds, “Unless you’re worried about mountain lions.”
“WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT?”
He laughs, “Kidding, kidding. Go. You’ll be fine.”
A little while, and a lot of squatting and twisting and maneuvering later, Joe and I are driving back down the mountain. The intense kiss-me-immediately fire has been effectively doused by my urgent bodily needs, so we’re back to what has become our usual casual banter. Until my phone rings.
And rings and rings and rings.
When the fourth call in row comes in, I apologize and Joe says, “Do you want to get that? Maybe it’s an emergency?”
I don’t recognize the number, but maybe? “Hello?”
“Gumdrop! Finally! There you are.”
“Miles?”Ugh.What number is he calling me from? I am curious, but not enough to stay on the phone. “What’s up? Is everything okay?”
“I haven’t heard from you, babe. Where are you? I miss you.”
Joe goes rigid next to me. I turn the volume down on my phone—Miles’ voice is like a record scratching in my ear.
“That’s because we broke up. Listen, I have to go.”
“We didn’t break up.” He sounds off, like he just woke up but he’s so happy to be awake. “I can’t live without my Gumdrop.”
I turn toward the window and whisper into the phone, “Stop calling me that. I hate that nickname. You don’t want to be with me. I don’t want to be with you. We aren’t—”
“You are still mine. I didn’t do anything wrong. You said you needed space. Thass it. I gave you ssspace.”
When he slurs his last phrase I finally realize what’s happening. “Are you drunk?”
Joe’s hand is on my arm and his low voice in my ear, “Everything okay?”
That catches Miles’ attention. “Who wasss that? Are you with a guy?” He curses in my ear, “I knew you were a crazy slut when I saw that picture—”
His words punch like a fist. I can’t breathe. I choke out, “I’m hanging up. We’re over. Don’t call me again.” I smash my finger into the little red phone symbol, wishing for an old-fashioned phone that I could slam down. My heart is racing, but not in the fun way, like earlier. Hot tears pool in my eyes making everything blurry. I’m so glad it’s dark and Joe can’t see what I let Miles do to me. I sniffle. His face whips my direction.Dangit.
“Sounds like a real charmer.” Joe is trying to lighten my mood, but I’m so hurt and embarrassed by the way Miles just spoke to me that it doesn’t quite work. My phone starts ringing again. Same number. “May I?” he asks, hand held out.
With nothing to lose, I hand the buzzing phone over to him. “Knock yourself out.” Sniffle.
“Hello,” he answers, one hand slung over the steering wheel, easy like Sunday morning. And I hear every disgusting word that Miles snarls at Joe, meaning that Joe heard every disgusting word that Miles shouted at me. Fantastic.
Joe cuts in, “Listen, seems like you want to talk about your feelings. I’m the oldest brother to four sisters, and believe me, I am well equipped to talk about feelings. Why don’t I start?” I can hear Miles’ angry motor-mouth in the background, but Joe is undeterred. His voice is calm. “I don’t drink, but sometimes when I’m overtired and lonely I start to miss old relationships. Are you lonely? Maybe feeling rejected? Maybe you rely too much on your partners for validation—”There’s a brief pause, then he hands me my phone. “He doesn’t want to talk.”
